sunrise
by thebattletardis
Summary: A series of one-shots about the team's experiences at the break of day. Each chapter is a different story about a different character, starting with Steve.
1. don't be shy

A/N: Hey guys! I know I literally just started a story, but I felt this one was just _necessary,_ you know? I'm starting this little series of one-shots with a selection about a special morning for Steve. Also, each chapter is titled after a song that I felt kind of fit the vibe of the chapter. This one is called don't be shy, which is a Cat Stevens song! It's the one everyone knows. I suggest you listen. It's cute. Anyways, thanks and don't forget to leave a review!

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The sun rose steadily, letting in a beautiful golden light through the open bedroom windows of one Steve Rogers, who sat on the balcony with a cup of tea and a sketchbook.

Most mornings he rose before the sun for his daily run, but today was different. Today was special. It was a day preserved in his memories with mason jars full of wildflowers and rough, childlike drawings. The weather was perfect for the occasion, as well: a light breeze brushed against his bare toes and the early spring flowers bloomed below him. It was perfect.

Yet one thing was missing—the one thing that would round out the perfect day.

Steve set his sketchbook and tea down and reached inside the balcony doors to tap on the touchscreen intercom: "Hey, Nat, wanna share a sunrise breakfast with me?"

Within minutes, the two friends sat side by side, enjoying the morning with content smiles and warm cups of tea. Little birds fluttered underneath them, singing like they did in the Disney movie Steve had loved so much when he was younger. Every once in a while, he closed his eyes and wished for a few seconds that one of them would land on his balcony.

During one of these interludes, Nat nudged him and asked happily, "So what's got you in such a good mood?"

Steve grinned, staring across the idyllic morning. "It's my mom's birthday."

Nat nodded, following his gaze. "Sarah."

"Yep," he said, sipping his tea. It was lavender, of course. "She always used to tell me her name meant princess when I was being difficult."

"You, difficult?"

Steve laughed. "Yeah, well. Kids, you know?" They both chuckled at that. "She would say, 'Steven Grant Rogers, it's not very becoming of you to be rude to a princess!' And I'd always say, 'It doesn't count if you're my mother.'"

Natasha threw her head back and laughed. "Cute kid, Rogers."

He smiled, letting the light soak him in the memories he usually tried to avoid. Today was about happiness in what was, not pain in what could have been. "Her favorite flowers were roses. Red ones, or pink, but we were poor, so me and Bucky used to pick her whatever weeds we could find. Usually not much, but it was enough to make her happy."

"It sounds like she was wonderful," Nat said gently.

Steve was smiling again, adrift in a world that felt impossibly far away. "She was the best."

Nat leaned over and rested her head on Steve's shoulder. She raised her mug, saying, "Happy birthday, Sarah."

Steve raised his own mug, letting the now-orange light pool into it like honey. "Happy birthday, mom."


	2. bright blue

**A/N: You know how I said I was gonna upload Tony or Sam next? Well, I lied. I've written about five of these so far, but the only one I thought was really ready was this one, so here it is. I just love Bucky, I guess. As for the song aspect of this chapter, this was actually the only one I've written so far that isn't based off of a song, but I wanted to keep a theme, so I picked one that sorta fits. It's called Bright Blue by Daniela Andrade. It's not a _perfect_ fit, but it's cute, kinda like this chapter. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review!**

"What the fuck," Bucky grumbled quietly.

He was, obviously, awake. A nightmare sometime around midnight had woken him, but he had stayed awake for his arm.

"Stupid fucking," he murmured, prodding at the delicate mechanical intricacies of the machine, "stupid…fucking Hydra agents."

For some godforsaken reason, when his arm had been (for lack of a better word) engineered, the stupid Hydra agents supposed it had been a good idea to make the stupid piece of shit make _noise._ Bucky had always taken issue with this, but in the past he had had no license to fix it, what with being a slave to the doings of Hydra. Now? He was Bucky Barnes, a man scarred not only by war and murder, but also by annoying stupid fucking machine noises. Furthermore, he was now armed with willpower and a tiny set of tools.

"You know what would make this fucking _metal arm_ work better?" Bucky asked nobody, mimicking the Hydra agents who had installed it. "Gee, I don't know, Bill. What?" He paused, pulling out a tiny whirring gear. "Let's make the goddamn thing make _noise!_ "

A pinprick of light appeared through a crack in his black blinds. Sunrise? Already? Bucky shrugged his shock off. He didn't need sleep. After being frozen on and off for about 70 years, he didn't need 8 hours of sleep every night. Steve always complained about Bucky's sleep schedule, but Steve wasn't _always_ right, and besides, _he_ didn't sleep that much either. He was always sitting on his balcony drawing, or he would sit up in bed and just stare out the window when he thought Bucky was sleeping.

Bucky shut the side of his arm and flexed his hand. No noise, but now his pinky didn't move. "Who the _fuck_ ," Bucky mumbled angrily, prying open his arm once again. Light from outside danced across his toes. Noticing this, he stared for a second at it before looking up the length of his blinds.

"Maybe the direct lighting will help me see better," he said, standing up to open half of the covering.

It was really fucking bright.

Bucky's room faced exactly east, which meant the sun always rose exactly right where it could blind him. It wasn't a bad view, though. He could see Steve and Sam racing each other around the woods nearby (Bucky smiled to see his boyfriend overlapping Sam multiple times), and the tops of the trees looked like they were catching fire, which was nice. He reached with his normal arm to grab a plum from inside his bedside table, remembering the first trip to the farmer's market he had made with Steve and Sam.

"Why do you need so many plums, Buck?" Steve asked, slightly irritated. The organic linseed oil paints he had wanted to buy had been out of stock.

Bucky turned to face Steve while reaching for a twelfth plum to put in his basket. "I have low magnesium in my body," he deadpanned, "because I have an entire arm made out of metal."

Behind Steve, Sam burst into laughter as Steve gave his boyfriend a dirty look. "Could you be any louder?"

"I have a metal arm!" Bucky yelled at the booths and shoppers. Nobody payed any attention. Bucky shot a smile at Steve as the latter glared and stalked off, followed closely behind by a nearly-crying Sam. Needless to say, the plums were not questioned again.

Staring out the window now, Bucky smiled. It was so easy to mess with Steve.

The sun rose higher still, light creeping past Bucky's shoulder. Sam was bracing himself by the knees now, breathing heavily as Steve passed him for the sixth time. Bucky had been asked to jog with them, but he declined every time. His "people skills" needed work, according to Wanda, who had _read his fucking mind or something he wasn't sure exactly but whatever it was, it was annoying as hell._ He didn't know how to distinguish small talk from heavy topics. He didn't know how to appropriately react to anything, really.

It was hard to figure people out, was all. So Bucky stayed in his room, ate his plums, watched the sunrise, and fixed his arm.

He sighed, sitting up and grabbing his screwdriver. "Alright, you noisy motherfucker," he said quietly, peering back into his arm as the sun shone above his head. Bucky wasn't bothered. He had work to do.


End file.
